Book Review: ‘My Turn’ by Johan Cruyff
In these days of TV money, Ultra HD haircuts, headphones and social media speculation, grainy footage of a skinny form in saggy orange shirt and black shorts feinting back over a ball in the 1974 World Cup is the stuff of YouTube compilations and Amazing Football Moments DVDs. It lives comfortably alongside Maradona’s goal against England in 1986, Beckham’s free kick against Greece, Brazil vs. Italy in 1970 and that time someone threw a beach ball on the pitch at the Stadium of Light; moments in our collective consciousness that we enjoy at Christmas and while waiting for FIFA’s latest incarnation to update.
It wasn’t a trick or showboating, Cruyff says in the book. It was the move that was the best available option at the time, performed out of necessity. There’s no glance at a Jumbotron to check out the replay, no knowing wink at the camera. That kind of stuff simply wasn’t Cruyff’s style.
Many of you reading this were born after Hendrik Johannes Cruijff finished playing club football in 1984 and while appreciation of his defender discombobulation is driven into the young football fan, the extent to which his ideas have influenced modern football is perhaps more easily overlooked. ‘My Turn’, the autobiography completed shortly before Cruyff’s death in March 2016, is the first opportunity we have to reflect on it, and, like the man himself, it’s a game changer.
Football, we learn, was in Cruyff’s blood, but stories of hours spent playing street football and hanging out at Ajax’s De Meer Stadion aren’t told with the standardised fervour of other books released in time for the Christmas market. They’re recounted in a laidback, almost detached way that the reader soon learns, permeates the entire book, and Cruyff himself. He wore his hair long because his wife liked it that way. He quit Ajax for Barcelona because of ill will caused by his insistence on players receiving a share of the European Cup prize money, not because he was chasing a dream.
His unquestioning self-belief and defiance in the face of traditional structures manifest themselves effectively through this calm, unruffled filter. We see how his appreciation for the technical aspects of football on the pitch developed over time, and parallels begin to emerge. Joe Hart’s recent bum’s rush to Torino springs to mind when Cruyff talks of the sweeper keeper role that evolved from Total Football. The raw account of the impact an attempted kidnapping had on his ability to play is reminiscent of Angel di Maria’s poor form after burglars broke into his home as he was eating dinner with his wife and child. A pernicious media’s habit of manipulating stories to suit their narrative, regardless of the facts, and the damage it can do.
Not least, the impact that his collaborative vs. individualist approach had on Barcelona.
This book, with its bold orange dust jacket and beautifully edged pages, is an insight into the mind of a man who, to all intents and purposes, created football as we know it today. Not the bloated, narrative driven mess we all subscribe to despite ourselves, but the feeling of watching your team score in the final moments of the game, the breathtaking sensation of watching Barca’s metronomic midfield circa 2009 or Bayern’s absurd rondos now. The blood and the heart.
This book probably isn’t a trick or showboating either, but now he’s gone, it’s actually nice to think Cruyff knew this might be his moment to bask in the light from the Jumbotron.
This is his wink to the camera, and if anyone is entitled to do it, it’s him.
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